Natural Enemies
by LisaT
Summary: Laura Roslin and Ellen Tigh. They've always been chalk and cheese but now one's the President and the other is the Final Five's linchpin. With the reckoning approaching fast they've got to find a way to put old enmities aside before it's too late... (Background A/R, Saul/Ellen, mention of Saul/Caprica)
1. Chapter 1

**Natural Enemies**

* * *

A/N: This was written several years ago and posted—perhaps not in its entirety—on LJ. Now I've polished some bits and rewritten others and it does in fact have an ending—more than could be said for the original!

* * *

 _"I'm still Ellen."_

 _"Hmmm_."

 **-** No Exit/Deadlock

* * *

They were natural antagonists. Natural enemies.

The bottle blonde and the brunette (how did one get hair colour at the end of the worlds?).

The socialite and the educator.

The romantic and the pragmatist.

The devoted wife and the spinster politician.

Once, their only apparent bond was that of age: a bond acknowledged with reluctance and petulance on one side and amused resignation on the other.

Now one is, or has been, effectively immortal, and the other is all too aware of her own numbered days.

The Cylon and the Human.

* * *

"That _woman_!" Laura Roslin exploded as Bill led her through _Galactica's_ triangular corridors to the rosy haven of their quarters.

"She hasn't changed much."

She snorted. "You mean she's still—she's still... _ooh!_ "

"She's still Ellen," Bill agreed, irritatingly placid while Laura continued to fume inwardly.

She didn't begin to relax until he spun the wheel to enclose them in his quarters. The sound of the hatch locking dissipated the tension in her muscles and she swayed, both grateful and annoyed when he steadied her without a word and guided her to the sofa.

"At least there's only one model of her," she commented, wincing as her body protested against her efforts to get comfortable. "Gods, Bill. Can you _imagine_? Multiple versions of Ellen Tigh?" She shuddered at the thought.

"Don't," Bill advised from his minibar. She watched as he took a swig of the amber coloured liquid that passed for ambrosia these days. Alcohol was becoming his crutch and she feared for him in that future she now knew she would never see.

She didn't express her anxiety; there was no point. Until Bill was ready and able to admit the reality of her impending death there was nothing she could do to help him with 'after'. Instead, she allowed a smile to form and sent him the coquettish, teasing glance she knew he couldn't resist.

"You were right, you know."

"I was?" Her stoic admiral looked surprised at hearing those words from her lips and she suppressed a giggle, one that died entirely when he handed her a glass of something disturbingly gloopy. And _green_. "Cottle said you'd to drink it before this afternoon."

She accepted it reluctantly. The stuff looked foul and tasted worse, but as long as Bill believed it was helping ... His gaze was fixed on her, watching as she choked down a few gulps, and she couldn't stand the hope (or the pain that hid behind it) in his eyes.

At least Ellen-frakking-Cylon-Tigh made for a good diversion.

"You were right," she repeated, allowing amusement to colour her voice. "You thought she was a Cylon, remember? When you discovered her aboard the _Rising Star_?"

"And you couldn't believe I suspected her."

"It seemed so—so preposterous. Ellen. Silly, flighty Ellen ... partly responsible for the genocide of the human race? _Impossible_."

"She wasn't." She heard his soft sigh of relief as he lowered his ageing bones to the comforting embrace of his sofa. "Any more than Saul or Tyrol or Anders or Tory were. They've been separate from the others. Remember what Kara told us."

All desire to laugh left Laura as she rested her head against the couch's wilting back. "I haven't forgotten. And now we need them." That thought made her grimace as much as the taste of the gelatinous gunk Cottle liked to pretend was a nutrient shake.

"Here's the thing," Bill was saying as he leaned forward to take the glass from her and place it on the coffee table. "She's still Ellen, and she's still in love with Saul. And she still considers me a friend—"

Realising where this was going, Laura groaned. "No. Absolutely not."

"Laura, you don't have to be here. You can go back to _Colonial One._ "

She glanced at him, a smile twitching. "Are you throwing me out, Admiral?"

"Never, Madam President." His eyes twinkled. "But you're welcome to throw _yourself_ out if the thought of an evening with Ellen is so godsdamned awful."

"And leave you and Lee all by your defenseless selves?"

She laughed aloud when he grunted in tacit agreement (and oh, this was why she loved him. The fleet was in dire straits, _Galactica_ was inexorably falling apart and she ... she too was dying—and yet somehow in the midst of it all Bill Adama could still make her laugh).

Bill's blue eyes were sparkling. "You gotta stay here, Laura. Gods know what that woman'd do without you to protect my good name—" She snorted inelegantly at that and he pulled her closer. "And ... we'd have them to ourselves. Pour that gutrot of the Chief's down their necks. Just think what you could find out with a few questions—"

Laura turned her face into his shoulder. "Gods, you do fight dirty. _Yes._ I'm certain there's plenty they haven't told us and if dinner loosened their tongues ... I'm not gonna turn that down. Plus, there's always the temptation to be bitchy."

"'Course there is." Poor Bill, he sounded resigned at the prospect (she was sure he remembered their _first_ dinner with the Tighs, never to mention her half-hearted attempt to build bridges with Ellen during New Caprica's brief summer) and she ran a consoling hand over his wool-covered arm.

"It's a funny thing," she went on, shifting to rest her head against his shoulder. "Never thought of myself as a particularly bitchy person before I met Ellen. Sure, Playa sometimes brings it out, but she's... well, she's more like an annoying student who needs to be squashed from time to time for her own good. Ellen ... I don't know if you'll understand this, Bill, being a man-" she flashed him a glance "-but Ellen is the equivalent of the irritating beauty queen at school that you _know_ you could crush beneath your feet if you had half a chance, but she's so slippery you can never get a good enough grip to do it."

Bill burst into surprised laughter. "If Ellen's the beauty queen, what were you?"

Laura gave him a serene smile. "Couldn't you guess? I was the mousy little geek at the back."

Bill grinned. "Now you're the president."

"And she's frakking immortal _and_ one of the revered final five to boot! Talk about adding insult to injury." She hummed. "Oh, invite them, but make sure we have Lee and Kara along too. I'll need some form of sanity."

"Won't I do?"

She poked him in the side. "You'll be too busy either talking shop or swopping warrior stories. Just invite Lee and he'll try to talk politics. Kara will break things up nicely."

"Or just break things up," Bill muttered, passing his hands over his face. "She's been temperamental lately."

Laura put her hand on his arm. "We've all been through so much," she told him softly. "Kara no more than any of us, and—and she carries the same burden of guilt that I do. About Earth."

Bill grunted, patted her hand, and rose to his feet. "Time to get back to the day job, Roslin. I'll tell the kids. Gods know Ellen's usually good for comic relief and that should help Kara and Lee. As for you, rest, okay?" He straightened his jacket and looked at her, the rims of his glasses gleaming in the dim light.

She sketched a salute. "Yes, sir." She curled into the spot he'd just vacated and expelled a tiny sigh. There was more heat there than she seemed to have in her entire body these days. "I told Lee it was time for him to do the heavy lifting."

Bill laid a blanket over her knees. "Letting the young ones do the work. Warm enough?"

"As I can be. Go."

He leaned to kiss her, his fingers brushing the flat strands of her wig. "Keep this on?"

"Hmm. Someone might come looking and I don't like scaring the natives."

Bill chuckled. "I see. It's your head. And Laura, you didn't lead us astray. We're not sheep, we could have said 'no' at any step of the way."

"Hmm. Okay, I hear you, I do. Now go. Tell the Tighs we'll see them for dinner—oh, Bill?"

"Yeah?"

"Could we wait until I've recovered from today's treatment?"

He squeezed her hand. "Wouldn't dream of doing otherwise. We need you on full airlocking-bitch mode to deal with Ellen."

She giggled, but her giggles were turning drowsy. "Thanks."

The last thing she heard before sleep claimed her was the clang of metal as the hatch swung shut.

* * *

The prospect of the forthcoming evening sent butterflies dancing through Ellen's stomach. Not that she'd have admitted it to anyone, least of all Saul—not when he was towing her towards Bill's quarters, grumbling all the while that she was to watch her frakkin' mouth, as if she was an unruly child instead of his wife and partner.

She hoped he appreciated her restraint in not responding in kind. She knew Saul's tetchiness was caused by his discomfort in going to this little gathering without Caprica. Caprica, who was still in Life Station grieving the loss of their child, and who had said precisely nothing when informed of this little jaunt.

Ellen had always known that Saul was an honourable man, despite everything.

Bill answered Saul's knock with a yell that meant nothing to Ellen but clearly meant 'come in' to Saul. Cylon or no, she could not help the flare of old jealously at how easily the two men could read each other, even yet. She'd never tell Saul, but on some level she'd been hoping that Bill's discovery of her husband's true nature would dilute the depth of their bond, forcing Saul to return, completely, to her.

That wasn't going to happen, she thought now as Saul pushed her into Bill's rosy quarters. Her first impression was one of déjà-vu; four years ago, he'd pushed her into these rooms in exactly that way, and to face almost exactly the same company. Bill, playing the genial host and offering some sort of liquid that was probably not ambrosia. Laura Roslin, seated on the couch as if by right ( _Queen_ Laura, Ellen thought scornfully) with Lee bolting to his feet by her side. Starbuck was the only discordant note, and she stood by in disconcerting silence. Ellen took a glass from Bill and wondered when and where Kara Thrace had learned to be still.

She took a sip and blinked. Ambrosia it was assuredly not, but it burned all the way down and warmed her inside, giving her courage. She smirked as Roslin took Lee's arm and levered herself slowly to her feet.

"Getting old's a bitch. Right, Laura?"

There was a silence that could be felt before Laura responded, her voice dripping the barbs Ellen remembered from before.

"Unfortunately, we can't all be well-preserved three thousand year old fossils."

Kara spluttered and Ellen glared while Laura, frak her, remained serene.

"Would everyone like to sit?" The President gestured at the table in the centre of the living area, furnished with old cloth and shining cutlery and two steaming vats. "I'm afraid we can't offer anything more tempting than algae, but at least it'll be good-looking algae, if I know the galley."

Ellen took her seat and her revenge. "Moved in, have we, Madam President? Frakking the military?" She meant it as a joke, but another muffled snort from Kara coupled with Saul's beady one-eyed stare told her she'd inadvertently spoken the truth. "Oh my gods, you are!"

"Not that it's any business of yours," Laura snapped as Bill held her chair and she settled into it. The smile she sent up to Bill said more than her words.

"Such a nice little family," Ellen cooed, ignoring the sharp poke in the side from Saul beside her. She leaned over the table towards Lee. "So do tell. Is she a wicked stepmother?"

"She's not my stepmother," Lee said, glancing quickly at Laura and his father as he spoke. "She's—uh, she's—" He stammered to a stop and looked uncomfortable.

"Yes, let's just leave that thought unfinished," Laura murmured, pushing a piece of star-shaped algae around her plate. "We still have to work together."

Ellen sniffed as Lee's worried face cleared and he exchanged a glance with his … well… his father's _mistress_. She hid a grin at the thought of how everyone would react if she said that out loud.

Silence descended once more, as awkward as before. It was broken by Kara, blunt as always.

"What was it like, being downloaded?"

Everyone blinked. Lee choked on his algae, Laura's eyes went wide before narrowing into green slits, and Bill remained his usual stoic self.

Saul gave a sound that was half-huff and half-laugh. "I wouldn't know, I remember frak-all about it."

"Looks like it's up to you, isn't it?" Laura said sweetly.

"I wouldn't be so smug, Madam President," Ellen returned with equal sweetness. "D'Anna told me that at one time she thought you were the Fifth."

Something indefinable chased across Laura's face. "I doubt that thought lingered. I am unquestionably mortal."

And with those words, everything clicked.

"Your cancer. It's back."

"Yes."

"The hybrid was right," Ellen breathed. "The Dying Leader… the prophecies are true!"

Everyone ate steadily, ignoring her.

Then: "The prophecies are a pile of shit." That was Kara, sounding desolate.

"Kara, don't," Lee protested.

"It's all right, Lee," Laura said wearily (and Ellen wondered how she could have missed that soul-deep weariness before). "I mightn't put it in precisely that way, but I agree with the sentiment."

"We both frakked up," Kara agreed, pushing her own food around her plate in a distracted fashion. She made a face and put her fork down. "Eurgh. This crap gets fouler by the day."

"Even if it is in pretty little shapes?" Lee said in a silly sing-song voice and the two collapsed in a joint fit of laughter that was over almost before it had properly started. The sound of it jangled along Ellen's nerves, emphasising her sense of dislocation.

This was not the same as four years ago. They were the same people, and not. Everyone (even her) was colder, harder; despair was a constant presence, almost as tangible on the tongue as the unpleasant slime of algae.

And yet ... Laura was dying once again. Ellen's pulse thrummed with the knowledge, the confirmation she hadn't even realised she'd been seeking.

She watched Bill lean over to whisper something in Laura's ear. The President smiled softly and picked up her fork, gamely carrying on with the unappetising meal whilst exchanging occasional glances with Bill that seemed to say: _I'm eating, I'm eating, I'm eating_...

Ellen stared, forcing herself to notice details she had wilfully ignored. The unnaturally straight hair (Laura Roslin with straight hair was anomaly enough). The gaunt face. The voice, alternately deep and breathy. Even her fingers trembled on her fork, as if the cutlery was too heavy to hold.

"How long?" Ellen blurted.

Laura dropped her fork and it hit her plate with an angry metallic clang. Ellen yelped as Saul pinched her, and Bill and the 'children' refused to look at her.

"That's none of your business," Laura said flatly.

"Oh, believe me, it is. How long?" Ellen wasn't going to let this go. "I need to know. We need to know."

Bill glanced at her, his eyes glacial behind his glasses. "Who's 'we'?"

Ellen gave a light laugh. "Oh, Bill. The Five, of course. You see, no matter what you may think, or you, Kara, or Laura, _we_ still believe."

"Speak for yourself," Saul grumbled. "I think it's a pile of frakkin' crap. We got to Earth, didn't we? An' all we found there was death and doom and gloom. Naw." He used his knife to thump the table so hard it vibrated. "Human or Cylon, we make our own fate, I say!"

"Hear, hear," Bill echoed. His glance towards Laura betrayed his thoughts, and Ellen felt sorry for him. For them—but she couldn't let it drop.

"The hybrid does not lie," she insisted. "'The Dying Leader shall know the truth of the Opera house'." She looked at Kara, "And 'Kara Thrace is the harbinger of death…'. Mean anything to anyone here?"

"That's enough," Saul growled. "Woman, I told you to watch your frakkin'mouth, didn't I?"

"You're not the boss of me, Saul Tigh!" Ellen wrenched herself from his hold. "I'm telling the truth and you know it, and they know it too. All of this has happened before, and all of it will happen again."

"Gods, I hope not," Laura said, and even in the dim light Ellen could see she'd bleached bone-white. "If the prophecies are true, and like Kara I think that's a big 'if' right now … _Gods_ , I hope we can break the cycle. To go through all of this again …" She slumped in her chair, turning impossibly paler.

Ellen watched Lee and Bill help her rise from her chair and held her upright. Kara pushed back her own chair and murmured something to Lee before quietly letting herself out.

"You'd better go," Lee told Ellen and Saul, his eyes cold.

"You're frakkin' right, we had," Saul returned. He hauled Ellen to her feet with more force than grace, quelling her protest with a filthy look. "We're goin'. Bill, shall I call Cottle?"

"No, don't," Laura said faintly. Even Ellen could see that she was hanging on to consciousness through sheer willpower and nothing else. "I'm – fine. I'm just tired, that's all. Just tired."

"Rest well, Madam President," Saul said gruffly. "Bill—"

His friend looked at him. "If we need anything, we'll call," he said tersely. "Good night, it's been a wonderful evening."

"Wonderful, huh," Ellen heard Saul echo as he pushed her through the hatch. " _Frakkin_ ' wonderful."

* * *

 _Reviews would be amazing._

 _TBC._


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you so much to_ _ **adama-roslinlove**_ _and_ _ **guest**_ _for your lovely reviews. Here's the rest of the story and I hope you enjoy it as much as the first!_

* * *

Life Station, Laura decided, was a very strange place. At once soft and hard. Simultaneously hushed and yet noisy, with the sharp sounds of metal mingling with whimpers of protest and pain and long moments of stillness. Too bright and too dim. Private and exposed...

She shifted in the bed that she now thought of as hers and grimaced as a wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm her.

 _I want Bill._

It was becoming a mental litany on those occasions when he could not be by her side, a worn copy of _Searider Falcon_ clasped in his hands. She missed him. Missed his voice. His warm grasp. His ability to see beyond the tubes and masks and scarves to the woman beneath. Between their jobs and her illness they got so little time together as it was, and her own personal sandtimer ('alluvial deposit timer' didn't have the same ring) was running lower by the day.

She resented it.

Resented a fate that that had given her love too late.

Resented a fate that took and gave and took again.

And resented, with a passion so deep that she could hardly stand to articulate it, the steady drip-drip-drip of diloxin into her veins. Once she'd tried to say 'no more' but by then the cancer itself was making her feel shitty, and there was always the increasingly elusive possibility that the diloxin might - _might!_ \- buy her precious time. Might put a temporary stopper on the unrelenting grains of sand that drained her life as if it were nothing more than a mathematical absurdity in itself.

 _I want Bill._

She didn't say it aloud; never had and never would. Bill would be here if he could and the security of the fleet had to come first. She knew that, had insisted on it when he'd started to accompany her to these appointments—but his presence was a comfort, a bulwark against nausea and pain and a solid reminder that she would not die alone.

 _You're so afraid to live alone._

 _And you're afraid to die that way._

Recalling that exchange still made her cringe inside, every emotional nerve firing. He was right; living alone held no terrors for her. Conversely, with no parents, siblings, husband or children the prospect of dying alone had been all too real until (irony of ironies) the worlds ended.

Sometimes she hated the thought that her people had lost everything in the Fall whilst she had only gained (albeit too late). Yet the memory of that soul-deep loneliness lingered and she never felt it more than here, in Life Station.

She _wanted_ to rest. Bill would expect her to rest and she hated the disappointed look that appeared in his eyes when he thought she wasn't giving herself the best possible chance. She clenched her eyelids shut so tightly it was uncomfortable; her eyes were scratchy and dry anyway, and the lack of eyelashes was making it worse.

Always a believer in the power of mind-over-matter, she took herself to task with the stringency she'd once applied to her students.

If she rested they could enjoy some time later. If she rested she might actually be able to listen to Lee when he came to her (cautiously, uncertainly) for advice. She could offer Bill the support she knew he needed so desperately right now, with his world inexorably shattering around him day by day. If she rested—

'Madam President?'

Laura's eyes flew open of their own volition. She regretted it at once; she knew that voice and its owner was the last person she wanted to see just now, not least after that frak-up of a dinner party.

 _Even Bill agreed it was a bad idea—afterwards._

She allowed her eyelids to drop. Hopefully her visitor would take the hint; a bit of peace wasn't too much to ask. She was a dying woman, for frak's sake.

No such luck.

'Laura?' the insistently irritating ( _always_ so irritating) voice prompted and Laura conceded defeat, opening her eyes and turning her head slightly. Even that much sent the room into a vertiginous spin while her stomach churned and gurgled threateningly.

She couldn't repress a tiny moan.

'Laura?' Ellen moved into her line of sight, her voice softening. 'Do you need anything?'

Laura wished with all her heart that she could say 'no'. That she could sent Ellen-frakking-Tigh on her way with a trenchant comment and expressive gesture, but her traitorous body had other ideas. The nausea was becoming urgent, leaving her unable to speak. She could only gesture weakly towards the steel kidney dish lying on the bed for this very purpose.

Ellen was surprisingly understanding. She got the dish in place in the proverbial nick of time, supporting the President's weak frame throughout the entire torturous retching bout. When at last it was done, Laura fell back against her pillows, utterly spent and completely humiliated. She longed to take the chance to send Ellen away, but ... she couldn't.

'Th-thank you.' It was a raspy croak, but it did the job—and it was almost worth it to see Ellen Tigh shift uncomfortably in her seat.

'Laura-I'm sorry. Truly. I shouldn't have been such a bitch-'

Laura Roslin had many faults, but at her core she was innately honest.

'Wasn't just you,' she managed. 'Was _b—both_ of us.'

Ellen took her hand and she was too weak to resist—and in truth, she had no desire to do so. It was warm and despite everything, despite their mutual bitchiness and enmity and rivalry (they were women, after all) Laura found herself holding onto that hand, relishing how its heat bled into her fingers.

'You're cold,' Ellen murmured, leaning forward to bring the thin blankets up around Laura's chin. Her eyes held a gentle warmth, something akin to maternal affection, and the President's throat clogged.

 _Just love someone_ , Elosha had said. She hadn't said anything about allowing people to love _her_ , and it broke Laura's heart to realise how much even her enemies seemed to care, now that it was too late for her to give anything in return.

Except a little honesty and common courtesy.

'Always cold now,' she offered, a smile curving her lips. 'Except at night. With Bill.'

Ellen laughed, a musical sound. 'He's a furnace, that man.'

'Hmmm.'

A pause, then: 'Will Cottle let you go back tonight?'

'He'd better,' Laura said, as fiercely as she could manage. 'I'll order it. Still the president.'

'You can always threaten him with an airlock if he says no,' Ellen began with a touch of her old edge—only to freeze as if she'd realised what she was, to whom she was speaking, and what she'd just said...

Laura squeezed the other woman's fingers with the little strength she could muster. 'Won't airlock anyone. Those days are done. Allies now.'

Ellen smiled. 'Funny, huh? Cylons and humans, united. It should always have happened this way,' she went on, her voice thrumming with a certainty and authority that compelled Laura to listen beyond her instinctive dismissal of _it's only Ellen_. 'This is how we break the cycle.'

'And find a-a home?' Laura asked, thin voice cracking on the last word. _Time's running out..._

'There's one out there, waiting for us,' Ellen responded with an odd confidence that lifted Laura's spirits. 'I know it. We can't wander the stars forever, this is not our fate.'

'And - and Hera?' A coughing fit overtook her and she could say no more, all her attention focused on relaxing enough to breathe, just breathe ... _I can't die now, not without Bill..._

Belatedly Laura became aware that Ellen's hand was on her head, stroking it, her fingers soothing through the thin green scarf. She found herself blinking back tears and whispering, again: 'Hera?'

'She's the shape of things to come. She's the most precious thing in this fleet.' Ellen's startlingly blue eyes were luminescent as she leaned in. 'Listen, Laura. No-one else will tell you this, but I will: you were _right_ to take her from her parents, right to hide her. If John-if Cavil ever gets his hands on her...'

'I knew it,' Laura murmured. 'I don't know how, but I knew it.' She took a careful breath, hating how the air dragged through her lungs, like water through an old and failing sponge. 'The dreams - the Opera House...?'

Ellen shook her head ruefully. 'I don't know any more than you do. The Hybrid doesn't make much sense, even to the Final Five. That's for you and Athena and Caprica to know.'

'Have to be ... soon,' Laura said. 'Won't be here much longer. Or _Galactica_ ,' she added as the plates above her groaned in an ominous fashion. When Ellen remained silent, Laura relaxed. It was refreshing to be with someone who did not try to deny this simple inescapable truth. 'He's gonna lose us both,' she ended and Ellen nodded.

'Yes.'

Laura gripped her wrist as tightly as she could.

'Don't let him be alone. He'll brood. Lee's young, he needs to find his own way, I can't ask him to shackle himself to his father's side, but you and Saul-'

Ellen rose and laid Laura's hand carefully on the bed. 'Don't worry. When the time comes, we'll be there for him, somehow.' She grinned. 'We'll probably be around for longer than either of you. Might as well do some good.'

'Nice being three thousand year old fossils,' Laura agreed with an almost-giggle.

'It has its benefits,' Ellen agreed drily. Laura felt a warm touch ghost over her scalp once more. 'Rest now, Laura. The end is coming, I can feel it. We'll need you yet.'

Laura snorted. 'You try leading a carvan of the heavens to the promised land from a h—hospital bed. Pythia had a s—strange sense of humour.'

'God-or the gods, if you prefer-always does.' And with those words Ellen was gone, leaving Laura blinking and disorientated.

 _Was that actually Ellen? Or just a figment of my illness-and-drug-addled mind?_

Whatever it was, the encounter had soothed her, allowing her to drift towards a peaceful sleep.

* * *

'Ellen! Ellen, where are you going?'

Ellen turned to see Tory Foster, her lips curving as the younger woman reached her.

'Hangar deck.' She paused when Tory's brow wrinkled. 'Haven't you heard? Adama's decided to mount a rescue expediton for Hera after all.'

'That's insane. Does he even know where to go?'

'He's found out about the colony, although I grant you that knowing where it is doesn't mean he'll actually be able to get her out.' _Not if Cavil's got his hands on her ..._ Anxiety flared and she picked up her pace, eager to get to the hangar bay as soon as possible.

'Ellen, you _know_ this is insane!'

Ellen turned to face her. 'What I know is that Hera has some meaning that transcends the here and now. She's meant to fulfil a role, just as we were.' She glanced at Tory's still profile. 'We're going, all five of us.'

Tory balked. 'So you're making decisions for all of us now?'

Ellen put an arm around the shorter woman's shoulders, marvelling at how maternal Tory often made her feel. 'You'll go, Tory. You never could be alone.'

They turned a corner of Galactica's geometric hallways when Tory jerked to a sudden stop. Ellen looked to see what had startled her, one corner of her mouth lifting as she saw the former president make her halting way down the hall.

She grabbed Tory's arm. 'Come on.'

Once again, Tory hung back. 'What—why?'

Ellen put her face close to Tory's, so close that she could see the pores on the younger woman's skin.

'How many reasons do you want, huh? Because she's the Dying Leader and she needs help, whatever she's trying to do. Because she's Laura Roslin and no matter what you think of her, she's held this fleet together time and time again. What do you think Bill Adama'd do if he finds we let her struggle on when she can hardly stand?'

Tory's expression turned mutinous and Ellen shook her arm.

'Grow up, Tory! I don't know what happened between you and her but this is not the time to indulge in a teenage strop—three thousand years too late, may I add. She needs us.'

The younger woman glowered, looking very like the teenager to whom she'd been compared. 'You don't know what she said to me, what she called me.'

Ellen's laugh was harsh as she leaned in. 'Let me guess. She found you were frakking Gaius Baltar and took it as a personal betrayal—and Laura Roslin doesn't forgive betrayal easily, if at all.'

The flush on Tory's cheeks told her she'd hit her mark and she laughed again.

' _Grow up_ ,' she repeated. 'We're none of us perfect. You frakked Baltar, and found something to believe in. I frakked my psuedo-son to save my husband, and Roslin frakked Adar for power and Adama for love. So what? Let it go. _This is not the time_.'

She left Tory with a final glare and crossed to Laura, her concern deepening when she saw how the other woman trembled, the light overhead emphasising the corpse-like pallor of her face.

 _She looks even worse than she did a few days ago. She's on borrowed time now, anyone can see it ... The way she's shaking, Cottle must've shot her up with the good stuff to get her on her feet..._

'Laura?' Ellen kept her voice gentle, intending it as a warning so her presence didn't startle Roslin to the point of collapse.

A soft _Hmmm_ was her only response and Ellen took it as permission, reaching to grip the President's arm. It felt even thinner than a few days ago, the fragile bones seeming bend at her touch. Inwardly wincing, she softened her grasp with a muttered, 'Sorry.'

Laura made a dry sound that Ellen only belatedly recognised as a laugh. 'Doesn't m-matter.' She stopped, clearly struggling to gather breath to go on. 'Th-thanks. This is a—a bad day.'

Ellen huffed at the understatement. 'Always thought you're a crazy bitch and this proves it. _Bad day?_ Please. Even I can see this is the worst day.'

Laura was shaking her head, her eyes unnaturally bright. 'No. No. Hera-' Her voice cracked, its brittleness hurting Ellen more than she'd expected. She'd always secretly envied Laura Roslin her rich tones. 'Ellen. I _have_ to do this. You know that. Now are you—are you gonna help me get down there?'

It wasn't a question so much as a challenge, the old hostility crackling between them as clear blue met dulled but still determined green.

Ellen heaved a theatrical sigh. 'I guess so. We both know you'd never make it alone. If anything happens to you Bill'd probably call the whole thing off out of revenge.'

Laura trembled, whether from cold or weakness or laughter Ellen did not know. 'No. Not Bill. He's chosen his path, and he'll follow it.'

'I think you underestimate how much he loves you.'

Laura hummed. 'No. No, I don't.'

She swayed, and Ellen put an arm around her, thinking, _Frak, what am I gonna do if she passes out here?_ Frantically, she looked behind her to where Tory was standing watching, and Ellen's exasperation bubbled forth in a hissed: 'Wake up, Tory! Time to choose.'

It seemed forever before Tory stepped forward, a multitude of emotions chasing over her usually imperturbable features.

'Madam President,' she said stiffly, one hand reaching to wrap cautiously around Laura's free arm.

Laura's eyes turned glassy. 'Tory. Oh, _Tory_.' She reached to cover Tory's hand with her own and Ellen repressed a grunt of annoyance as Tory remained stony, her gaze fixed resolutely away from her former boss.

 _She doesn't forgive easily either, she's more Laura's daughter than she is mine—_

But Laura _had_ forgiven Tory, Ellen reminded herself, she'd just seen the proof. If only Tory could do the same.

'Ellen asked me to help you down to the hangar bay. I'm doing this for _her_ ,' Tory was saying in her usual haughty manner, but Ellen could see she was more affected than she pretended.

'Tory.' Laura stopped and her assistants had to do likewise. Ellen saw Laura's hand squeeze Tory's until the younger woman looked at her. 'You were right. I—I was wrong about a lot of things.' The papery skin on her lips tore when she smiled at Tory's shocked expression. 'Dying... gives you plenty of time to think. You should—you should try it some time.'

Tory made a strangled sound that could have been a sob or a laugh, Ellen could not tell which. _Perhaps both_ , she thought as Tory give Laura a tremulous smile and the older woman repaid it with the soft look Ellen knew she usually kept only for Bill.

'I'm—I'm glad you're here. _Both_ of you.' Ellen could feel Laura pull herself up as she spoke, drawing from whatever limited reserves she still had. Blue eyes met green once more, but now it was in perfect understanding. 'So let's do this, h'mm? Let's go.'

Ellen met Tory's eyes over Laura's bent head. 'Of course, Madam President.'

 _This is a Human-Cylon operation from start to finish_ , Ellen thought as they started their careful walk down to the hangar deck. _This is right It shows how much we've come together, the Humans and us. And_ this _—two Cylons walking side by side with the President of the Colonies, all wanting the same thing—this is right too. This is as it should be._

Hope, precious hope, swelled within.

Human and Cylon together, not one over the other. Perhaps the cycle could be broken and the words she'd said to Laura Roslin in comfort would become truth: all this would end, forever, and they'd find a home at last. Somewhere to rest ... for the Dying Leader most of all.

 _She deserves it_ , Ellen thought fiercely as she and Tory released the President, allowing her to lurch down the red line towards the Admiral under her own steam.

'You—you weren't thinking of, of going without me, were you, Admiral?'

 _Oh, Laura. He'll be without you soon enough,_ Ellen thought. Bill knew it too, she could see it in the line of his jaw when he tenderly (so tenderly) handed Laura over to Kara's charge.

She found herself grasping Tory's hand, much to that young woman's surprise. Unwilling to show the depths of her emotion, Ellen cleared her throat. Tory wouldn't understand.

 _But Saul will,_ she thought in sudden longing as she met his single eye across the crowded hangar deck. _Saul knows how this feels. And he'll know how Bill feels, after. When we get back, when Hera's safe, when Laura—_

Cylon or not, Ellen could not bear to finish that thought, even in the privacy of her own head.

 _This is it_ , she thought.

 _Whether we find Hera or not, this is where it ends_.

 _Fin_


End file.
